Another bullet struck the wall.
Caleb fired back.
One rider fell.
“Go!”
Eleanor ran.
Smoke filled the lower hallway.
She reached the cellar door and pulled it open.
Empty.
Her heart stopped.
“Sarah?”
No answer.
Then she saw the far wall.
A hidden panel stood open.
Footprints led into darkness.
Caleb had prepared for this.
She crawled into the tunnel.
Cold earth scraped her hands.
Ahead, a child’s voice whispered.
“Mama?”
“Keep moving!”
They emerged nearly a hundred yards behind the house among dense pines.
Sarah counted everyone.
Thomas.
James.
William.
Margaret.
Catherine.
Edward.
Nathaniel.
Eight children.
Eight.
Eleanor almost sobbed from relief.
Then Nathaniel whispered, “They know this tunnel.”
She turned.
“What?”
“At Mercer Farm.”
His eyes were wide.
“They made children dig tunnels.”
Sarah gripped his hand.
“What are you saying?”
Nathaniel looked toward the darkness behind them.
“The man in the black coat knows.”
A sound came from the tunnel.
Boots.
Eleanor drew her revolver.
“Run.”
The children disappeared into the trees.
Eleanor remained.
A figure emerged.
Not Price.
Judge Voss.
Mud covered his coat.
Blood streaked his forehead.
He raised a pistol.
“You people have made an unbelievable mess.”
Eleanor aimed at him.
“So did you.”
Voss smiled.
“You won’t shoot.”
“Why?”
“Women like you never do.”
He raised the pistol toward the retreating children.
Eleanor fired.
The explosion shook snow from the pine branches.
Voss dropped.
Eleanor stood frozen.
Her ears rang.
She had never shot a man.
She had never imagined doing so.
Then she heard Edward screaming in the distance.
She ran.
The children had reached an old stone smokehouse at the edge of the valley.
Sarah pushed everyone inside.
Eleanor arrived moments later.
“Where’s Nathaniel?”
Sarah turned.
He was gone.
Eleanor’s heart stopped.
“No.”
Footprints crossed the snow.
One set small.
Another large.
They led toward the frozen creek.
Eleanor followed.
Her lungs burned.
Behind her, Thomas and Sarah ignored her orders and came anyway.
At the creek stood Reverend Price.
He held Nathaniel against his chest.
A pistol pressed beneath the boy’s jaw.
“Stop.”
Eleanor stopped.
Nathaniel’s face was white.
Price breathed hard.
His clerical collar hung torn.
“You should have stayed in Philadelphia.”
“You should have left my child alone.”
“He was never supposed to matter.”
Price laughed bitterly.
“Do you know how many unwanted infants passed through our hands?”
Nathaniel flinched.
Eleanor wanted to tear the man’s throat apart.
“Children born into poverty. Widows unable to feed them. Families drowning in debt. We placed them where they could be useful.”
“You sold them.”
“We created order.”
“You sold them.”
Price pressed the pistol harder.
“Samuel used exactly those words.”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“And you killed him.”
“Samuel discovered Nathaniel by accident.”
Price’s eyes narrowed.
“He wouldn’t stop searching.”
Behind Eleanor came a faint crunch.
Caleb.
She did not turn.
Price saw him.
“Drop the rifle.”
Caleb obeyed.
“Kick it away.”
He did.
Price smiled.
“The famous Caleb Roar.”
Nathaniel trembled.
Caleb’s voice remained calm.
“Let the boy go.”
“You killed two of my men.”
“Should’ve been three.”
Price’s face twisted.
